


Beta Lyrae

by rapier_puree (eeeeeeee)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: 80s sci fi alien movie inspired, Angst, Bonding, Child Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Slow Burn, T'hy'la, vulcan sensibilities getting in the way of feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-07-14 18:29:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16046138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeeeeeee/pseuds/rapier_puree
Summary: A young Spock crash lands in a field in Riverside, Iowa after the ship he and his parents were on was attacked by Klingons. Jim saves him from the burning wreckage and then the pair, armed only with a rusty screwdriver, a microwave, and their new, mysteriously developed bond attempt to help Spock get home. This would all be a lot easier if the 1980’s was warp capable.--“Uh, did you just say sorry? You sounded sorry,” Jim asked, “it’s… okay? You can grab my ear if you want?”Spock was looking more uncomfortable by the second, before coming to some sort of decision and that cool exterior from before came back. He reached up and tucked some of his hair behind his- pointy ear .“Holy fuck you’re an elf.”UNDER REWRITE





	1. One only needs to look up to realise they are not alone

**Author's Note:**

> Beta Lyrae is a binary star system, which is a system made of two stars that orbit a common mass. It is both an eclipsing and spectroscopic star system, which means when viewed from Earth the two stars can eclipse each other, and that they are also so close together that they appear to be one star to the naked eye. The primary star in Beta Lyrae also has a third star orbiting at a distance, which is great bc I live for symbolism. 
> 
> I'm largely following the alternate original series, but it's a little bit of a mix. 
> 
> Currently, I have a buffer of 6 chapters (mid writing chapter 7 now), but updates are gonna be a bit ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. There will definitely be an update every 1-2 weeks but I am, however just making most of this up as I go along (I have an ending just no clue how I'm gonna get there lol) so prepare for potential edits to chapters :)
> 
> Check end notes for vulcan translations

Something was ringing in his ears. Still half inside a dream he couldn’t remember, Jim looked around. His room was bathed in the red early morning sunlight - his mom’s black and white movie posters flared orange and the eyes of greasy-haired film stars glowed.

Yawning and rubbing at his bleary eyes, Jim turned his gaze to his window, where the world was on fire.

Jim startled upright and gripped at his windowsill, heart beating loud and fast in his chest. It wasn’t the _sun_ making his room glow like that- it was the entire field on _fire_.

Some part of him wondered where it had come from, seeing as everything was dead and gone for miles around - Frank didn’t know how to manage a field like this. 

Most of him was just panicking. 

He stared out at the fire, mesmerised at how it spread, how it grew, the deep, glowing orange rising up from the hulking, black mass in the middle-

There was something in the fire. That was definitely some sort of something in there, smack bang in the middle of the field. Some sort of… round thing? It was definitely round- _ish_ , the shape of it warping the fire’s reflection and oh _shit_ something was moving-

There was some _one_ in the fire.

Jim ran downstairs (silently, _quickly)_ in nothing but his old - flammable - pyjamas, throwing open the back door and running faster than he ever had before towards the searing heat. He could feel it from the porch, hear it from his window and from two feet away, he could feel… the person inside.

He couldn’t explain it - wasn’t trying to, wasn’t thinking at all. From his bedroom to the field, chest heaving and backing up slowly as the blistering heat advanced, all he was thinking about was _there’s someone in the fire._

Now, all he was thinking was _I’ve got to get them out._  

People _died_ in fires like this. _He_ could die, but it didn’t matter, had to happen someday and with fucking _Frank_ around it could be sooner rather than later so-

Jim went into the fire, barefoot and coughing and eyes full of ash. 

He could see them now, could see their arm try to haul the rest of their body above the gleaming, hot metal (is that what it was? It looked too shiny to be-) 

Jim ran up to the arm, mind reeling and feet burning, and he _pulled._  

Out of a slit in the… thing came a person, a kid around his age. He had a bowl cut and weird eyebrows but Jim didn’t have time to gawk - what was the kid _doing_ in his field anyway?

“Come on we have to get out of here!” Jim yelled, voice croaking out as ash clogged up his throat. 

The kid doubled over in a coughing fit, the hand that wasn’t connected to Jim’s coming up to their face. 

“We need to-” Jim’s voice stuck in his throat, the words packed down and piled on top of each other. He couldn’t speak.

Panic rose up in his chest, and the kid he pulled out of the wreck snapped up to look at him, eyes wide. He didn’t say anything, but started running towards Jim’s house faster than Jim had ever run before, he was being dragged by the hand that held them together and Jim thought that if he wasn’t holding on, he would have died. Would have been left behind for the fire.

When they reached the back porch, the kid turned around to look at the burning field. Jim had no idea what to do when it reached the house, didn’t really have a plan in the first place - he just saw movement and _ran._  

The kid was puffing, but his face said he was waiting for something, expecting- 

The silver thing in the field _exploded,_  a huge noise that slammed into his chest, and Jim flinched back, eyes shut tight.

But when he opened them, the heat had gone, the early morning air rapidly cooling his singed skin. When his eyes adjusted to the sudden lack of light, he noticed that parts of the silver thing had fallen off, revealing a sleek round shape. 

“IIsh-veh nam-tor wuh shatik kesaya svi' wuh pavek t' wuh tevul” the kid said, and Jim paused.

“What language is that?” he asked, and it was the kid’s turn to look confused - raising a thin eyebrow, brow creasing minutely - as if Jim was the crossword in the Sunday newspaper. A puzzle.

“Tor du stariben Vuhlkansu?” The kid asked 

“It doesn’t sound like any language I’ve ever heard of,” Jim said, mainly to himself.

“Sauyaing ri” the kid deadpanned, also without the expectation of a reply.

Jim stood up and looked at him properly - he was wearing a long black dress that was light enough to blow in the breeze, and the little he could see of his arms had goosebumps.

Jim pointed at himself, finger jabbing into his chest. “Jim,” he said simply.

“...Jim?”

Jim nodded. 

“S'chn T'gai Spock,” the boy said, pointing at his own chest. 

“Shh, uh, Schhlin… Tag… uh, Spock?” Jim tried. 

“...Spock,” Spock allowed. 

Jim turned to look out at the thing he pulled Spock out of. Something didn’t feel right.

“How did you- gah!”

Spock had grabbed his ear.

“Spock what the fuck?”

“Du nam-tor komihn,” Spock muttered and he sounded… scared. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Jim asked, “you don’t look so hot.”

 _“Du nam-tor komihn,”_ Sock repeated, and he _definitely_ sounded scared this time.

They both stood there in silence for a beat, then Spock wrenched his hand away like he’d been burned (which, to be fair, _was_ a possibility in this situation).

“...Ni'droi'ik nar-tor.”

“Uh, did you just say sorry? You sounded sorry,” Jim asked, “it’s… okay? You can grab my ear if you want?”

Spock was looking more uncomfortable by the second, before coming to some sort of decision and that cool exterior from before came back. He reached up and tucked some of his hair behind his- _pointy_ ear _._

“Holy fuck you’re an elf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vulcan translation:  
> \- It is an automatic response in the event of a crash  
> \- Do you speak Vulcan?  
> \- Apparently not  
> \- You are human (x2)  
> \- I apologise
> 
> I used an English-to-Vulcan translator so if anyone knows more about this stuff than me feel free to let me know :)


	2. To understand, and to be understood in return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Henlo I have no patience so here's an update :)
> 
> Vulcan translations in the end notes

“So,” Jim said once he and _Spock_ were sitting safely on the floor of his room, “somehow there’s an elf with pyro tendencies and something that could be a flying saucer that exploded in mom’s field.”

Spock blinked at him.

“And!” Jim continued, “the elf doesn’t understand a single word I’m saying, which is great.”

Spock’s expression changed minutely.

“Don’t you give me that look. I know you probably think I’m crazy, and I know you’re probably an alien but I was asleep for like, _an hour_ and now I am freaking out! So, Spock. What the _fuck_ are we gonna do!”

Spock frowned slightly. “kauk hi i ma wuh pi' li-fal ret, i dva-tor du nam-tor flekh na' wuh komihn.”

Jim flopped back onto the wooden floor. “We can’t just sit here talking to ourselves forever. Dumbass Frank is gonna wake up soon and I’m gonna have to pretend to go to school and then pretend I don’t know why the field burnt down when I get back from pretending to go to school.”

“I bolau zaprah wuh el'mish,” Spock said, and out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw spock stand up and walk over to the door. He sat up.

“You wanna go outside?” Jim asked. Spock didn’t move.

“Well, alright.” Jim stood up, opened the door, and looked down the hallway as discreetly as he could. “But we gotta be quiet, okay?’

Spock blinked at him.

“Yeah, you’re a real chatterbox but we gotta-” he put a finger to his lips and Spock turned green which was, uh, new _“-shhhhh!”_

Jim definitely had an alien in his house. Area 52 FBI people were gonna put a boot through his window. More importantly, as long as Spock was green Jim couldn’t pass off Spock as “some kid from school.” Not that Frank would believe that if he woke up - aside from the fact it was ass o'clock in the morning, Jim didn’t have any friends (Bones was too old to count). And even if he did, he wouldn’t bring them round to this shithole.

Jim grabbed Spock’s hand only for it to be immediately yanked back. He raised an eyebrow as Spock cradled his hand to his chest.

“Whatever, just stay close,” Jim whispered, knowing he wouldn’t be understood but hopefully the message got across somewhat.

They managed to make it all the way downstairs and to the back door before Jim heard shuffling on the living room couch. The sound triggered his fucking fight or flight and without a second of hesitation Jim hauled Spock out the back door and blocked it from opening by turning around and leaning on it. The door rattled as Spock tried to get back in.

“Jim…?” came a low grumble from the couch.

“Uh, hey, Frank,” Jim said.

A heavy hand came up to grip the tattered green and white flowered sofa. It really was a bad choice but he could really fault his parents for buying it - they were on a budget, his mother had once said, newlyweds often are. And it matched the other dime store, second hand crap they got.

“Th’ _fuck_ you doing making this much noise in the morning,” Frank said, lifting himself up to get a look at Jim. The rattling had stopped. “And why are you going out back? Don’t you have… fuckin’... _school,_ or whatever.”

“Uh, yep! I’ll get right on that, I just remembered I left my - my shoes outside. So I’m going to get them.”

“Your shoes?” Frank deadpanned, “Don’t lie to me you piece of shit, I ain’t stupid.”

“You’re not? Could’ve fooled me,” Jim replied, because that’s what he did. It was their little routine.

“What did you say to me?” Frank asked, even though it wasn’t a question. Not when it was said that deeply, and not when he was getting up off the couch like that.

“Wow! Deaf _and_ dumb, you’re really pushing it today, Frank,” Jim said because it would distract Frank from the tuft of black hair and pair of black eyes looking through the window, “what time did you get back anyway? An hour ago? Two? You know, I don’t think you’re really applicable for the ‘the more you drink the more attractive everyone gets’ because you’re obviously not getting any now that mom’s-”

 _Whap!_ Right on the cheek with those stupid meaty hands of his. It gave Jim whiplash to try and keep up with how fast his head could turn. But he didn’t let go of the door.

“Your _mom,”_ Frank said, in that same _what did you say to me_ tone, “is on a business trip because Sam’s not here and she can’t bear to see your ugly mug any longer than she has to.

“I hate to break it to you buddy but there’s _two_ ugly mugs here she’s not bearing, and they can’t _both_ be mine,” Jim wheezed, and Frank clenched a fist in Jim’s hair. He didn’t let go of the door.

Frank wrenched his face up. “One day, you’ll realise that this roof over your head and that fucking field is the best you’re ever gonna be, and then you might learn some fucking respect.”

He threw Jim’s head down with a carelessness only people in power have - and he did have power, because despite all Jim’s wit and his backtalk and his see-if-I-care attitude, Frank owned this house, and his mom only ever sent paychecks like he was just another bill to pay.

“And you’re gonna teach me, bastard?” he spat, and then ducked out the door. He waited, breathing heavily, for Frank to scuf his way back to the couch and pass out like Jim knew he would.

Spock was looking at him. He was no longer green.

“What,” Jim hissed, “you don’t have assholes on your planet?”

Spock shuffled over - of course he stays out of sight now that Frank can’t fucking see him - and sat down next to Jim. He pointed out into the field. To his… ship?

Jim wanted to knock the back of his head on the wall, but it was too risky, so he sighed instead. “Sure. Lets go to the spaceship in my backyard, Spock.”

Spock stood up, brushed his dress off, and held out a hand. He was green again.

 

* * *

 

Dawn was just creeping over the horizon when Spock finally figured out what he wanted with his stupid ship and Jim really wished he would hurry up because the sun made it hurt to look at - it was made from a metal that looked almost red but shone like anything. Spock stared at the side expectantly, and then knocked on it a couple of times when it remained inanimate. He frowned.

“What is it?” Jim asked.

Spock kicked the ship, and Jim burst out laughing. He looked like an angry toddler.

But then, the wall of the ship opened.

Spock relaxed slightly, but there was still a furrow in his brow. He stepped through the doorway and Jim frantically followed. It was like the inside of the _Nostromo,_ only the interior didn’t look like it was made from heavy duty lego and air vent pipes - more sleek than clunky, more function than fashion.

Although, it was like the _Nostromo_ in that it looked like it was coming close to its second (or third) explosion - sparks flying and alien technology giving off alien warnings (nice to see red was a universal _everything's going to shit_ colour). The ship was only one room, with a seat near the screen that had fallen over and while Jim was gaping at everything, Spock had dislodged a black square from the dashboard and had started pressing buttons.

“Hey hey hey, whoa, you can’t take off! This thing’s totaled!” Jim said, running up to him.

Spock said nothing. He pressed a big red button _(also_ apparently a universally _bad_ button), grabbed Jim’s hand again, and ran out of the room.

Jim didn’t feel as freaked out when he was holding Spock’s hand. They were running away from Spock’s spaceship, but he wasn’t, y’know, _freaking out_ freaking out. If anything, he might have been a little sad. Probably because his first-ever spaceship had fucking disappeared into thin air.

“What the fuck?” Jim said once they were back on the porch. He turned to Spock, who was now holding the black square in his right hand while sweeping a finger on his left over the surface.

Then, because the universe decided to cram a lifetime of weird into one day, _the square lit up._

“What the _fuck,”_ Jim said again. Spock looked at him and then back down to the square. He frowned again, and then moved his finger in long, spiral motions.

He turned the screen around to Jim.

 

_Mine/my/I database do/does not_

_have the/a word fuc(k)/phuc(k)_

_[phonetic spelling]._ _Please define._

 

“Uh, it’s…” he trailed off, dumbfounded. Spock held up the device closer to his face, and Jim leaned slightly closer like it was a microphone, “it’s a bad word that adults don’t like to hear you say, but it can mean, like, uh sex or, just a general ‘damn things are going badly,’ or, uh, ‘oh no!’ kind of… thing.”

They watched the screen as the words Jim was saying in English flashed up briefly before being replaced with swirls and lines linked together. Spock erased them and then began writing his own squiggles. Jim watched with rapt fascination as the swirls flickered and turned into English.

 

_One’s/your speech is (ill/not/un)logical._

 

Jim laughed. “I don’t know where _you_ come from but here unless you’re like, a professor or something we’re all pretty not-logical.”

They waited for the translation. Spock drew more words, which then changed into English.

 

_My/mine/I have/has surmised this to be true._

_Although my/mine/I must admit to the/a bias_

_of little experience [scientific connotation]_

_and knowledge [academia connotation]._

 

“Science?” Jim read, “is that why you’re here? To run tests on humans?”

The lag time between talking and getting a response kind of put Jim on edge, if he was honest. It really made the whole _alien_ thing really sink in. Especially if it turned out Spock was here to put probes up his butt and metal in his brain. God, what if Spock was actually adult size for his species and they were small because they were like, really dense and strong and what if his planet had lots of gravity like Krypton-

 

_No. My father is an ambassador_ _and_ _our_

_ship/craft was attacked by_ _Tlingansu_

_[phonetic spelling]. Mine/my/I crashed here_

_and_ _my/mine/I_ _long-range communicator [low_

 _subspace_ _band]_   _was damaged in the/a crash._

_My/mine/I being here_ _is breaking several rules._

 

“Your dad’s a _space ambassador?_ And you were attacked by _other aliens?_ Wow, this is so cool-”

“JIM!” Frank yelled from inside. Jim grabbed Spock’s hand and tugged him round the corner of the house, out of sight.

“Stay here,” Jim hissed before running back to the porch door, “heya, Frank.”

“I see you still don’t have any shoes on,” Frank leered.

“I’m a true-and-true Iowa boy, Frank. I just can’t relax until I feel the dirt between my toes and the sun on my back.”

Frank grabbed his arm in a vice-like hold. “You know what happens when you play smart with me boy, I’ll- what the _fuck_ did you do to my field you little _shit?!”_

Jim looked behind him. Ah yes, even though Spock’s alien magic hid his ship it didn’t hide the circle of burnt wheat. Ha, a real life crop circle made by a real life alien.

“An alien did it,” Jim said, and Frank swiftly punched him in the gut. His face was an ugly red and his beady little eyes reminded Jim of the movie posters in his room this morning; wild and angry and burning a hole in his head.

“I told you,” Frank warned, “what would happen if you got smart with me-” he slapped Jim on the back of his head “-but do you ever listen? _Do you?!”_

If Jim got smacked around enough, then Frank would be forced to call the school and say he was sick. Then he could get back to the alien around the corner.

“Honestly, I try not to,” Jim said, “it blocks out the little voices in my head saying _light the field on fire, Jimmy.”_

“Fucker, _”_ Frank glowered, and punched him again. And again. And then Frank went for his face - a blow that would leave a mark in mere minutes. Jim had won. (Had he?).

“Fuck.” Frank let go of him and Jim stumbled. “You’re not going into school today, you’re going to fix what you did - as much as a fuck up like you can.”

As Frank walked back inside, Jim gave a mocking salute. “Much obliged, I’ll get on that _never._ Have fun avoiding that child abuse sentence.”

Jim heard him take the phone off the receiver, which meant that Frank had to be facing away from the back door. Now or never. Jim took a deep breath, which he regretted instantly, and fetched Spock from around the corner.

“Come on, let’s go while he’s distracted,” Jim waved, ignoring Spock’s expression - although it was less of an expression, per se, and more of a stretching of muscles it seemed Spock had forgotten he had _-_ some mixture of confusion and anger that Jim didn’t care to analyse.

He opened the door carefully and ushered Spock upstairs. It wasn’t until he was safely in his room with the door locked that Jim allowed himself to slump over and lie on his bed. His face hurt.

Spock was sitting on the floor with his back next to Jim’s arm, frantically drawing on his device. Jim watched him realise his letters were too large for the amount of space/things he had to say ratio twice before sitting up and tapping him on the head.

“Hey,” Jim mumbled, and Spock stopped writing in favour of watching the words appear in front of him, “don’t you have a better way of communicating. You’re never going to get a peace agreement with Earth if you keep this up, you know. You’ll never get a word - or, uh, letter - in edgewise.”

Spock’s writing was calmer, now. More tense than frantic.

 

_It/that is significantly faster to write_

_than to talk/speech, in my/mine/I case._

_The/a Vuhlkansu [phonetic spelling] language_

_can convey_ _much with less. Although/but,_

_you/one know mine/my/I did not come to Earth_

_for an agreement/treaty [legal connotation]._

 

“Point still stands, though.”

Spock hesitated.

 

_There is a way/path. But it/that_

_is considered highly (im/not/un)proper_

_and_   _invasive by many._

 

“Does it involve putting any sort of device into my body?” Jim asked. Spock looked scandalised by the translation (by Spock standards anyway, which was still pretty funny) (Jim wondered if Spock’s species just had less facial muscles or something).

 

_It/that do/does not. Vuhlkansu [phonetic_

_spelling]_   _are touch_ _telepaths [tele;patheia]._

 

“Holy shit you’re gonna read my thoughts?” Jim said.

Spock shook his head once he understood what Jim said. He started writing again but Jim interrupted him.

“Wait, it’s ok, just do it,” he said.

Spock raised an eyebrow.

“I’m serious, go for it.”

Spock checked the translation, and then sat facing Jim on the bed. He had long eyelashes. Jim could probably count them from this distance.

Jim saw something in his peripheral vision coming up to his face and instinctively flinched, moving out of the way so that his back hit the headboard.

It was Spock’s hand.

Jim sighed. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t accept things without knowing what to do, right?”

Spock started writing again.

 

_The/a mind meld involves touching_

_your/one’s psi points. For both humans_

_and Vuhlkansu [phonetic spelling], this is on_

_the face._ _my/mine/I have undertaken such_

_the/a task_ _before, although/but never alone,_

_thus my/mine/I will require your/one’s absolute_

_inaction._

 

The meaning behind Spock’s words hit him a second too late. Spock had carefully placed his fingertips on the side of Jim’s face and his eyes were closed. Once again, his skin had turned a light green. (Maybe Spock was allergic to humans?).

And Jim’s mind exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alien: there's this thing that involves me messing with your brain but we can chat if I do. First I gotta touch your face I promise it's not weird and I won't punch you  
> Jim: sure, alien I just met! That sounds like a good idea bc everyone knows if you've got pointy ears you're trustworthy!
> 
> Translations:  
> \- Even though I have a small sample space, I believe you are strange for a human.  
> \- I must retrieve a device  
> \- Tlingansu = Klingons  
> \- Vuhlkansu = Vulcan(s)
> 
> I left "Klingons" and "Vulcans" the way the Vulcans say them bc I don't think that there would technically be a word for them in English yet? Jim could technically try and anglicise it but idk I just left them. Of course, I didn't think of this until I was uploading it so I now have to think about whether or not I'll call the Vulcans "Vuhlkansu" the whole fic. Thoughts?


	3. We think, therefore we are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited about this chapter. It was fun writing it :)
> 
> As always, notes and translations at the end

There was an old song his mom used to love because his dad loved it. She didn’t play it anymore (she would have to be _here_ to play it) - but it said _life goes on within you without you._

This was life, within them and without them.

They could see T’Kasi, Earth, their human mothers and Vulkhansu father. They didn’t feel anything, felt everything (wished to feel nothing, maybe it would be easier) (it wouldn’t. Not when they come for your existence because your existence

                                                                                                                                                         because your resistance

                                                                                                                                                                                                    is futile).

They were a hybrid. A human-human-vulkhansu hybrid. They know they had a purpose going into this, but it’s lost. Lost in the shared consciousness; in the hybrid that shouldn’t be real. Antiquated, futuristic DNA-DNA hybridisation that cooled to a perfect match. Different DNA for the same being. (Where were his shields). They had two childhoods, looked at one moon and felt one, two, three suns with one father beside them and one in the stars. (Did he need them?) Sybok and Sam left them, their silhouettes overlapping and becoming one. Their mothers were gone, by force and by choice and Frank was coming for them if the escape capsule wasn’t repaired soon because there wouldn’t be a signal to send out they’d be _stranded_ here and what if their father stopped looking. (Did he want to shield this?). He might. He’d say _kaiidth_ to comfort their mother which would tear her apart and they’d lose another father to the stars.

They knew happiness and hid it, knew sadness and forced it down. Their blood ran iron red and copper green, hearts beat in chests and by their sides.

Life.

Within them. Without them. Before them. Before anything. (Was it better this way?).

Life.

When Spock started to pull away, Jim could feel his body again. He wasn’t a consciousness, he was human (-human-vulkhansu hybrid). He was alive. That wasn’t like the meld with T’Pring, wasn’t like any bond he knew of. He did know that Earth didn’t have enough suns. And T’Kasi scared him. Them.

Although, they’d never admit it.

“Spock…?” Jim said, and promptly passed out.

 

* * *

 

He awoke to a hand stroking his hair. Jim opened his eyes, and it stopped. Anxiety wormed its way through the back of Jim’s skull and settled down next to the rest of his new, alien knowledge. God, he could _taste_ the desert air even though he’d never set foot out of Riverside, could feel sehlat fur under his fingers, map the Beta Quadrant with his eyes closed.

“Jim?” Spock asked, and, oh, that was new, “Are you well?”

“I am… something.” Saying that made the anxiety spike weirdly,  but his head was too full to dissect it.

“You will tell me the star date, your age and your full name immediately,” Spock said.

“It is sometime in November, the year of our lord nineteen-eighty, I am fifteen, and my name is Jimothey Tiberius Kirk.”

“It is not.”

Jim grinned up at Spock, the worry ebbing from his mind. “You’re right, it’s not. You’re always right - hey Spock, how come I know you’re always right? I thought it was just going to be some kind of Tamaranian-esque language transfer.

“If it were as simple as kissing I would have already known English,” Spock said, blushing.

“Heh, yeah, I held your hand- _whoa_ okay it’s weird how I know that. It’s weird that I did that. This whole thing is weird.”

Spock was tense. And worried. It wasn’t on Spock’s face it was in the back of Jim’s mind because they _knew_ rejection, knew T’Pring was barely there at all.

“I apologise,” Spock said, “it appears that my mental shields were more damaged than I first estimated and I… I did nothing to prevent what happened in the meld. I was under the expectation that Humans are psi null and their compatibility to Vulkhansu was limited.”

“Spock, I don’t think it’s humans. I think its _us.”_

A beat of silence.

“That might be true,” Spock acquiesced, “but nonetheless I made an error of judgement.”

“It’s ok,” Jim said, “although I don’t know how I’ll be able to live a normal life now that I know about a whole ‘nother _planet.”_

Spock looked even more sorry for himself (as sorry as Vulkhansu could look) and Jim laughed. “I’m kidding, Spock - as if I could ever have a normal life anyway.”

“It is logical for a singularly unique being such as yourself to not have a ‘normal life,’” Spock said.

Jim stared at Spock in disbelief. There was an alien on his bed, and _he_ was the “singularly unique” one? Spock had an intensity to his gaze that Jim was beginning to understand was completely normal for him. Jim had never heard of a boring alien, ever, but Spock had an intensity to him that outshone the big screen tenfold. It was like Spock had an internal walkman playing the music you hear when the main character’s about to die, or for the climax of the end battle.

Jim blinked. “Anyway, we, uh, need to do something about your ship. Don’t want you to get left behind.”

Although, some small part of him wished Spock could stay. Jim as a general rule didn’t have many friends, but Spock was something else entirely.

“I agree, however there are some issues we must fix before that,” Spock said, surprising Jim.

“What issues?”

“Frank-”

“Frank can’t be fixed, believe me,” Jim said, “I’ll probably just take off when I’m able to make money somehow anyway.”

 _“Frank,”_ Spock insisted, “is an issue.”

Jim stood up abruptly. Talking about Frank made him feel like he was being examined from every angle, every reaction catalogued and judged and put on a checklist. “One that can wait until _later,”_ he said resolutely, “and he’s probably out by now anyway, he works early on Tuesdays - c’mon, let’s check the barn.”

“You know what Vulkhansu do in situations such as these” said Spock, and he did. Dishonour and exile and loss of citizenship be the spoils to the parent that hits their kid. Those who commit such an _atrocity_ can no longer call themselves Vulkhansu. Jim kicked his bookshelf.

He unlocked the door and wrenched it open. “Well we’re not _on_ T’Kasi” he snapped, “and humans are too _illogical_ for it to happen only once in a blue moon _,_ remember?.”

A strange feeling washed over him, the kind that made him think he’d forgotten something, only it was more… _urgent?_ Maybe? The kind of feeling that made you go ‘hey wait a minute, go back there it was important.’ He ignored it, and they walked down the stairs in silence.

Then: “humans are illogical enough to have an idiom based on purely qualitative measures.”

Jim scoffed good-naturedly. “We have better ones than that, even.”

“If by “better” you mean “increasingly nonsensical,” then I agree,” Spock said from behind him, “pigs will never fly.”

Jim opened the back door and pushed it a little as he went through the doorway so it would stay open for Spock. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” he said, turning right and heading for the red-ish barn off to the side, “but you can’t pretend that Vulkhansu are strangers to metaphors - veh sasu mokuhlek satau na' wuh fa-wak, right?

“Your pronunciation is abysmal.

Jim laughed, and rolled open the barn door.

“So,” he said, feeling lighter than before, “we have fuck all in terms of baffle plates, but we have a couple of screwdrivers and a microwave we can go nuts on.”

The barn was mostly full of hay, despite the lack of animals to feed it to, but there was also a decades-old car boasting a peeling lime green coat that Frank was slowly restoring, various old metal tools, and some sad buckets in a corner.

“Vulkhansu do not have emotions, but I find myself feeling something akin to regret for knowing the meaning of “to go nuts” on an object,” Spock deadpanned.

“Ah, that’s because you’re only _half_. Half stoic elf and half stupid monkey.”

“Are humans the stoic elves or the stupid monkeys in this metaphor,” Spock asked so seriously that Jim had to turn around from where he was rummaging in a tool box and could immediately tell he was being laughed at. Stoically.

“I’m gonna find whoever said Vulkhansu don’t have a sense of humour and punch them in the mouth,” Jim muttered, taking out a screwdriver and brandishing it like an achievement, “so! Even though I’ve been in your head I only know that fixing your ship is going to be different than building a computer. It’s like I learnt addition and then quantum physics but nothing in between.”

“An apt description,” Spock said, looking around the barn, “humans are centuries away from warp capability - so much so that my being here is potentially dangerous.”

They collected more tools in silence, a moment of silence for the potential results of people other than Jim finding Spock.

“Well, like father like son I suppose,” Jim said, holding out a tool box, empty with the exception of a wrench and a screwdriver. Spock had collected an assortment of nails, the big hammer Frank said he was too young to use, and a blowtorch, all of which he placed into the tool box.

“We need to get to my ship,” Spock said, “although how we intend to reveal it in the field while remaining undetected by Frank I am unsure.”

Jim paused. “Could we move it in here? It’s not as heavy as a D’kyr support craft.”

Spock gave him the dryest look yet, and Jim laughed.

“One day I’ll hear you laugh at one of my jokes,” he said, “and it’ll be the best day in the world.”

Spock abruptly turned away to look at the barn wall. “I suppose it is only a small emergency vessel. We might be able to move it.”

“We might - if we use the right tools,” Jim smirked, staring at the half-restored car.

Spock looked back at him at his odd tone, and then to the car, and then back to Jim, eyebrow raised.

“Frank will, to borrow a turn of phrase, kill you,” he said.

Jim grinned at him.

“Even though this machine is primitive, I remain the more experienced. I shall drive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If it's not clear Spock is the one saying that last line)
> 
> Translations:  
> \- one man can summon the future (I got it of a wikiquote list of "vulcan proverbs" which weren't really... vulcan proverbs... as such. I was looking for stuff like "once in a blue moon" or "a stopped clock is right twice a day" and it gave me "my mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts")  
> \- T'Kasi is what Vulcans call the planet Vulcan (well it's one of the ways. I've found the info a couple of times before but as I am writing this I Cannot so if anyone knows Where in memory alpha it is that'd be great thx)
> 
> Also! DNA-DNA hybridisation is a Real Thing that doesn't exist yet for Jim. It's a way of telling how far apart two species are from one another, genetically speaking. You get two strands of DNA from two different species, separate the double helix and then p much just fuse the two strands from different species together with heat and see where the bases didn't match up. For example: human and chimp dna, as our bodies are pretty similar, our dna codes for basically the same stuff so there won't be many "missing links." A human and a jellyfish on the other hand would barely link up at all, as our bodies do very different things, showing that humans and jellyfish diverged from each other very far back on the evolutionary path. 
> 
> So when I said "cooled to a perfect match" this is what I was referring to
> 
> The chapter title is a reference to "I think therefore I am." I think (heh) it's pretty well known and this is already pretty long so I won't explain it but please feel free to ask if there's something you don't get :)
> 
> Come chat to me on tumblr I'm @thornsword


	4. Slate eyes and marble fists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My update schedule runs on impulse power

It was lucky that the barn doors were facing the field - as good as Spock claimed to be, Jim doubted he could drive derby in this hunk of junk (or any fine modern motor vehicle; it probably wasn’t the Vulkhansu way to do donuts in the middle of Shi’Kahr).They had managed to wheel the ‘50’s convertible out of the barn in relative silence, even tied the coil of rope they had found around the various hooks and hitches in the outer hull (and they really had to _find_ them because the ship was still invisible) before arousing suspicion.

Jim could have heard the back door creak from ten miles away. Could have felt that anger in his sleep from a moon in the Beta Quadrant.

Spock flinched and ducked out of sight before Jim even opened his mouth.

 _“JAMES KIRK!”_ Frank yelled from the porch, “WHAT THE _FUCK_ ARE YOU DOING WITH MY CAR!”

Jim hoped the ropes were secure. “Spock get in the car,” he hissed, “make sure he doesn’t see you. We gotta go _now.”_

Frank started towards them, moving in an odd walk-run-jolt, like he was so angry he had lost partial function in his legs. Jim hopped in the driver’s seat and started the engine.

_“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE-”_

But it was too late.

Jim slammed his foot down on the accelerator, and his and Spock’s heads snapped back at the force of it.

“Get down, Spock!” Jim yelled over the rusty engine, “he could see you!”

Spock nodded, and sunk down in his seat. They sped towards the barn, leaving a spluttering Frank far behind them. Jim let out a whoop as they came to a jarring stop, which winded him for the second time that day. Spock exhaled slowly, centering himself, before getting out and grabbing the shears to cut the ropes.

He was halfway through when Frank’s indecipherable anger started getting clearer. And closer.

“Spock, hurry up,” Jim urged, opening the car door and picking up a broken piece of glass to hack at the binding with. It was awkward to hold and sliced his hand, but it was better than nothing.

_“-ASSHOLE, YOU FUCKING NO-GOOD SON OF A-”_

The rusted shears managed to cut through the last piece, and they both sprinted back to the car. Jim started the engine and drove straight through the timber wall, no doubt adding to Frank’s laundry list of beatings Jim was gonna get.

The cut on his hand stung and left a smear of red on the old leather steering wheel, but their dumbass plan worked, the wind was in his face and he had an alien in the passenger seat.

Jim glanced at said alien, grinning and fully intending to say something illogical and funny but he couldn’t remember what it was because Spock was next to him, bowl cut messed up and thrown about his face, with the utmost expression of a contentment he knew couldn’t last, but was enjoying it anyway.

Spock was _enjoying_ it. There was a slight upturn of his lips and he closed his eyes, leaning into the sensation of running away, of freedom short-lived but bright-burning.

And Jim was bright burning, looking at Spock. His brain hiccupped, and Spock must have heard it because he opened his eyes and turned to Jim.

“It would be prudent to keep your eyes on the road, Jim,” Spock said, “so that we don’t die.”

And they had reached the road. Jim hadn’t realised until he had been told to do the sensible thing (by the sensible, logic-worshipping alien who was having fun) that the old car was zooming down an empty road.

He grinned. “Watch this,” he said, a pulled at the latch in the roof just above his head. It probably wasn’t meant to be fiddled with at high speeds because as soon as it came undone the rest of the top flew off and clattered on the road behind them.

Spock was startled for a second, and then relaxed into it again. His hair had streamlined behind him, which Jim thought was hilarious. Slicked back hair did _not_ match his face. It just didn’t work.

They were surrounded by cornfields, and even though it was a dime a dozen view in Riverside, Jim knew exactly where they were.

“We’re near Death Canyon,” he told Spock.

“That is not its name,” Spock replied.

“Riverside Industrial Mining Quarry sucks ass and you know it, Spock,” he said, half to watch Spock flush green at the expression and half because it was true. Like the Riverside Industrial Mining Quarry, most things sucked ass around here. The shops, Frank, Frank _again_ because he sucked so much, the school, the kids in school, the kids _everywhere_ (with the one and only exception of Bones, who was ten years older and not really a kid but awesome enough to give alcoholics a good name).

He jerked the steering wheel to the right when he saw the dirt road that led to the Riverside Industrial Mining Quarry, making the back spin out behind them and the car skid before Jim slammed on the brakes (as smart as he was, he had never actually driven before). They sat there, slightly out of breath, and Jim started laughing.

“Frank really is gonna kill me,” he said.

“I am unable to discern if that was a joke or not,” Spock said simply, “but either way know that I would never let that happen.”

Jim smiled. “Yeah I know. I’d also knock Stonn out in a cage match, no questions asked by the way.”

“Stonn is Vulkhansu and therefore would not only possess superior strength and skill in combat, but also refuse the challenge of a _cage match,_ as it does not suit the honour of battle,” Spock countered.

“Yeah, but he’s a dick.”

“Incorrect. He is Vulkhansu.”

“Stonn’s the biggest dick I’ve never met,” Jim said, and Spock did not disagree.

Instead, he said: “there’s another car coming.”

Jim tensed and gripped the steering wheel again, easing onto the gas this time. Because while it could be literally _anyone_ else in Riverside going to a drive on a Tuesday morning, Jim knew if Frank was angry enough, it would be him.

And Frank was pretty angry.

“Death Canyon it is,” Jim said, and drove down the dirt road leading to the Riverside Industrial Mining Quarry.

Mere seconds later, the car followed them.

The tenuous freedom was well and truly gone from them now; urgency had crept back into their minds and actions and they were speeding towards the quarry with a madman hot on their tails.

The edge was getting closer and closer and still Jim did not stop. If Spock could really read Jim’s mind through the bond that may or may not have been created, Spock must be pretty worried because Jim was going to drive the car off the edge if he didn’t think of something soon.

Because the edge was straight ahead and Jim honestly wasn’t thinking about all that much he was just _going._

“Jim!” Spock yelled, and Jim hit the brakes and twisted the wheel sharply, passenger side facing the road. Spock was already standing on the seat. He yanked Jim up and they both jumped just as the clunker went over the side, landing heavy on hard, red rock that scraped at their arms. The small patch of dirt and pebbles Jim could see from where he was pressed into Spock’s side by a tight arm around his waist looked sort of like T’Kasi. But only on a surface level; it was still weird that he could tell the difference between Iowa, Earth, and Shi’Kahr, T’Kasi purely because that rock there was off.

His ribs hurt. His knees hurt. Everything hurt.

There was a car parked right in front of them. The door slammed shut and heavy boots stepped out and Jim rose slowly as the comforting arm left his side. Spock stood up to meet Frank head-on.

“Kirk,” Frank said, breathing fire, “who the fuck is this?”

“I am S'chn T'gai Spock,” Spock said, and he was angry too. Jim knew because he could feel it; an all-encompassing yet restrained anger Jim was beginning to recognise as not his own emotion. All of Spock’s had this control to them, like they had a constant internal monologue of _‘now, Spock…’_

“You’re a what?” Frank spat, and then shook his head “Who cares. What fucking business do you have trashing my property like this piece of shit kid?”

Jim rose to his feet next to Spock, holding his side. Spock’s lip had a trail of green making its way down his chin. When neither said a word, Frank scoffed and made to grab Jim, but was intercepted by Spock.

“You will not touch him.”

Frank’s eyes went wide, darting from the adolescent hand that contained a surprising amount of force to the green blood to his eyebrows. “What the f- _oof.”_

Jim punched him in the gut. And then the groin. And then Spock’s hand moved to where Frank’s neck and shoulders met and the man dropped like a sack of potatoes.

“He will not touch you,” Spock said, and Jim was in awe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Careful, Jimmy ;)
> 
> Also I have a tendency to forget Jim's hurt so lemme know if he's suddenly fine with no explanation and I'll fix it


	5. In control one finds themselves content; in losing it one finds themselves alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little short :/

“What the hell was that?!” Jim gasped up at him, excitement and other numerous, indecipherable emotions flitting across his face. It seemed that despite the information gained and the change initiated by the… unconventional mind meld, Spock still was unused to seeing that which was so freely expressed by Jim but so deeply restrained by his own people. He certainly knew _of_ emotions, and expressions, but knew very little by way of recognising them.

What he felt now, however, was familiar.

This was _anger (get rid of it you are above this you are in control)_

Spock closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, attempting to briefly clear his mind and allow Jim’s elation to abate his anger slightly.

_“That,”_ he said, “was a Vulkhansu nerve pinch.”

“Can you do it on me?” Jim said, and Spock grimaced internally.

“I have been told it is a painful experience - one I doubt you would want to endure.”

“Damn-” and Jim genuinely seemed discouraged “-can you teach me, then?”

Spock ignored the question. “We should get back to your home before he wakes up.”

Jim’s look darkened. “Yeah,” he agreed, moving towards Frank’s limp form, “let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

True to the original plan, Spock drove them back. It wasn’t hard to get a grasp for the simple controls, but he had to admit to himself that working the foreign manual gearbox was fascinating - humans really were much farther from warp capability than he thought.

They travelled in relative silence, the presence of an unconscious Frank discouraging most conversation lest he woke up. Spock was confident that he would remain as he was for at least another 2.5 hours (as he had only performed the nerve pinch once before, and never on a human, he could not be exact) (he would be frustrated had he not been Vulkansu).

“Do you reckon we can convince him it was all a dream?” Jim asked.

“As your field is largely destroyed and you drove through the barn wall, it is unlikely,” Spock pointed out, “not to mention that he could still feel my ship, even if he could not see it.”

Jim smiled. “Yeah, but I mean about seeing you. Man, his face when he realised there were suddenly two of us is something I’ll never forget.”

“I was unaware humans faces could become such a colour,” Spock said, and it wasn’t entirely a lie. He did know that humans had red blood that flushed to their faces when experiencing intense emotions, only not to the extent demonstrated by Frank. Jim laughed, which was the desired effect of his words, so Spock let the lie-by-omission be.

Laughter was a curious thing. Spock had heard his mother laugh before, in the privacy of their home (and Spock had been told, much to his dissatisfaction that during the two years of infancy before Vulkhansu acquire an adequate grasp of logic, that he had _also_ laughed), but Jim’s was so different to hers. His mother laughed softly, ducking her head as if to hide the reaction from disproving eyes, but Jim laughed loudly, a sound he projected by opening his mouth wide and tipping his head back as if to let everyone hear it and know of his emotional state.

It was fascinating.

Spock had come across other societies in his studies, had heard exclamations of joy or sadness in holovids and examined the flaws and advantages of the structures of each (even his own society, which remained the society with the most advantages and least flaws through logic, according to his Vulkhansu teachers), but holovids did not prepare him for this. For Earth.

“I’m convinced Frank was, like, an octopus in a past life,” Jim said, “you know they can change colour? Except when they’re in danger an octupus’ arm will fall off, and Frank just falls down.”

He laughed at his own joke. It never failed to intrigue Spock that within the space of 4.352 hours he now knew what a _joke_ was, and, theoretically, how to make one. He also knew what Snack Mates were, and that Winona Kirk had an old Gilbert U-238 Atomic Energy Laboratory in the attic that Jim had been looking for for several years. Aerosol cheese and 30-year-old radioactive toys were admittedly not at the top of Spock’s need-to-know list.

They chatted about Earth’s marine creatures for a little while longer before Spock turned onto the Kirk property.

“Damn maybe I _should_ learn to drive soon,” Jim said, opening his door, “you were far less panicky about it than me.”

Spock got out of the car. “I did have the advantage of knowing there was nothing chasing us.”

“Hmm. True.”

Jim walked around the bonnet to stand next to Spock, both staring at Frank through the car window.

“What do we do with him?” Jim said, more thinking aloud than actually asking.

Spock opened the car door. “He will awake in approximately two hours. First, we will move him to his bedroom.”

“The fact that you suggested that knowing full well the bedroom’s fucking upstairs makes me ashamed to know you,” Jim said, “I don’t wanna carry him up a flight of stairs.”

Spock initially felt hurt by Jim’s words, but felt through the bond only reluctance towards the task and the same freely felt happiness thrumming at the back of his mind as usual.

“Vulkhansu are three times stronger than humans, and you are injured,” Spock said, “I will hold most of the weight.”

“Hey, you’re also hurt,” Jim protested, stepping close and brushing away the almost congealed blood on Spock’s lips with his thumb. Jim’s hands were rough but the gesture was soft and Spock found himself unable (unwilling) to move.

Jim jerked his hand back suddenly.

“Sorry, sorry, I forgot,” he said, and they were both blushing now, “I mean, I _know_ I know things that I didn’t yesterday, I just- don’t always remember? Sorry. Dumb monkey brain here.”

“It is… expected,” Spock said, brushing the spot Jim had touched with his own fingers.

Jim had blue eyes. It wasn’t that Spock had never noticed the colour before, but Jim had _very_ blue eyes (an inexact description, but an apt one nonetheless). They complemented his complexion and hair colour and Spock had become all too aware of them.

“A-anyway,” Jim said, breaking eye contact and grabbing Frank’s collar, “we should move him.”

“Yes,” Spock agreed, slightly shaken, and together they pulled Frank out of the back seat and slowly made their way upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll be back to our regularly scheduled Jim POV next chapter :)


	6. Parted from me and never parted; never and always touching and touched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! I had exams that kicked me up the butt but now we're back!

“So Spock,” Jim started once they were back in the barn with a now-visible spaceship, “what exactly… happened, in the mind meld?”

 Spock turned around from where he was examining the ship and Jim rushed to explain himself: “Because I know that mind melds don’t usually go like that, I’m not _supposed_ to know that, because it’s just meant to be a… an upload/download situation but now… Spock, I think you’re in my _head.”_

Spock looked grim as he sat down on the hey-strewn floor. Jim sat opposite him.

“It is true,” Spock began, “that bonds usually involve a ceremony, or familial attachment, and only surface bonds can be initiated through a single meld… however you are correct, this is different.”

“So you _are_ in my head,” Jim tapped his temple, “this is _you?”_

Spock nodded. “We are parted and never parted. Never and always touching and touched. Perhaps my frayed relationship with T’Pring and the distance from my parents and home planet created a… lapse.”

“Nah, you’d never let that happen. I know you miss your family - shut up, you do - but this is serious stuff,” Jim said, dismissing his theory.

“Then I confess I am at a loss.”

 “It could be one of those things from Pre-Surakian times,” Jim said, startling Spock.

“Pre-Surakian times?” he echoed.

Jim nodded, hand to his chin. “Yeah. My memory isn’t as good as yours so I’ve already forgotten most of what you know, but that stuff is interesting. And they have a lot of words for things in Traditional Golic Vulkhansu that aren’t in Modern Vulkhansu, like those girls that met once on the battlefield and ended a war because they had to get married?”

Spock looked uncomfortable, and a little surprised (if it was possible to surprise him), and the tips of his ears were green. “They were… an exception. They were T'hy'la. We have an initial Telsu bond.”

Jim shrugged, and dropped it. Spock hadn’t really gotten that deep into his classical literature education yet so Jim didn’t really know all that much anyway.

“Ok, so, somehow you’re in my head even though that’s not supposed to happen, really, but you can’t, like read my thoughts…” he trailed off, and Spock nodded in confirmation “so basically it’s like I’ve got a Vulkhansu mood ring for a husband. Wow, married at 15. What would my mother say.”

“You have… such a way with words,” Spock deadpanned.

Jim shrugged. “It’s a gift. Now, how do we fix this communication thingy? I’d call him on the home phone but I don’t think your dad has a landline.”

Spock merely raised an eyebrow and went inside the shuttle. They popped open the dashboard - the communications array was in shambles. It would take delicate hands and a few 15-cent miracles to even get to the subspace amplifiers, let alone fix them. And they were definitely going to have to tear up the microwave. Maybe the toaster, too.

They were in the process of taking it all apart when Spock paused for a moment. “Frank is awake,” he said, low.

Jim also stopped what he was doing for a moment, but then continued to poke around amongst the singed wires. “Tell me if he comes out here,” he said, “but he probably won’t. He’s got better places to be.”

“The bar,” Spock said, unscrewing the side panel in order to expose more hardware.

“The bar,” Jim agreed. He could feel Spock’s frustration, but he still refused to talk about it. What was the point of theorising solutions when Frank was a problem that could never be fixed? It would be easier and faster to make a working origami warp drive than it would trying to fix the Frank issue. This was his life until he was eighteen and there was nothing he or Spock could do about it. They’d fix the intergalactic walkie-talkie and Spock would fly off into the stars with his parents, back to T’Kasi and T’Pring and a long illustrious career in the Science Academy, and Jim would still be here. Alone.

“Jim.” Spock placed a hand on his shoulder, and Jim slumped.

“Can we just forget about Frank?” he pleaded, “Tell me about the space telephone.”

Spock gave him _a look._ “Vulkhansu have excellent memories, I shall not just “forget about Frank,” but we are getting close to the subspace amplifiers.”

“Yes. Good. Subspace amplifiers. Tell me about them.”

“We will only be able to fix the bare minimum, using what is left here and potentially your microwave, and the subspace amplifiers will be necessary in order to entangle the array here to the one on the ship my parents are on, through the use of a subspace relay station,” Spock recited, “once sent, the signal will travel at a propagation speed approximately equivalent to warp factor 9.9997-”

“Approximately?” Jim smirked.

“-which is several times faster than light. This means that it should reach my parents before they have given up their search.”

“Hey,” Jim nudged Spock’s shoulder, still holding a few random wires, “your parents wouldn't give up. Your mum would hijack the ship first and you know it.”

The corner of Spock’s lips quirked up. “Perhaps,” he allowed.

Maybe because he had never worked with someone on such an interesting, life-changing project before (maybe cus the kids at school were losers), but Jim felt like he could live off this feeling. The theorising, the back and forth between Jim asking something, Spock explaining, and then Jim suggesting some outrageous monkey brain idea mostly as a joke that Spock would be able to see something in.

They talked and they worked and Spock was worried, but he was less worried when Jim was rambling on about the chickens from Mr. McGee next door or when he had his chin tucked around Spock’s shoulder, examining what he was doing (Spock always assigned himself the more delicate tasks, which was probably for the best). Working with Spock was good.

It was mid-afternoon when they stopped for lunch. For Jim, who could get bored with the most exciting new video game, to be able to stay in one position for that long said a lot about how utterly _cool_ fixing an alien ship was. And maybe also who he was fixing it with.

“I can’t promise we have all that much,” Jim warned, holding open the back door for Spock, “especially cus you don’t eat meat.”

“I do not mind,” Spock said, properly looking around at Jim’s living room and kitchen for the first time - the high wooden ceiling, dusty fireplace and mix n’ match furniture.

“Sure you don’t. Minding would imply _emotion_ and we can’t have that can we?”

Jim had meant it as a joke, but something clicked in Spock’s expression. “No, we cannot,” he agreed.

Jim found some assorted fruit - two apples and a peach he wouldn’t recommend - and half a head of lettuce for Spock (which he apologised for), and put a TV dinner in the microwave.

“What?” he said when Spock raised an eyebrow at him, “We can’t just tear her apart without saying a final goodbye.”

Jim put the fruit and the lettuce on a plate, slid it across to Spock who was seated on a bar stool on the other side of the counter along with a knife and fork.

“It might be hard to cut but I, uh, guessed you wouldn’t want to eat an apple with your hands,” he said. Spock’s ears went green as he thanked Jim stoically and started to slice up the fruit.

“Just don’t eat the seeds they’ve got cyanide in them.”

Spock stopped cutting. “There are easier ways to kill me,” he said.

Jim laughed and put on an old-timey voice: “It’s all part of a bigger plot, my dear.”

The microwave beeped and Jim took the TV dinner and sat next to Spock. “So,” he said, cutting up the lasagne that was probably as deadly as Spock’s apple seeds, “what are we going to do with the microwave?”

“I don’t know exactly what is in them, but any machine that uses radiation to some extent must be useful.”

“Wow, we’re just winging it?” Jim said, “Who are you and what have you done with Schlin… Shhi- Spock?”

“I am S'chn T'gai Spock. And under the circumstances, I am using what I have to my advantage. I cannot use what I do not know I have.”

“It’s okay Spock, you can say you’re winging it, I won’t tell the Vulkhansu High Council,” Jim teased.

“I refuse.”

They left their plates on the counter and Jim pressed flat the microwave manual out on the floor. A house to themselves and a microwave at their feet. Jim had done much worse with less. The rubber dishwashing gloves he had found under the sink made it hard to handle the tools delicately, but soon enough the outer casing was off.

He only had a vague idea of how communications arrays worked, and thus was content to unscrew and pull out everything and let Spock sort through the junk. They ended up collecting the cavity magnetron, the high voltage transformer, and a twelve volt relay but scrapped the rest - Spock said anything that generated energy or could connect the two would prove useful.

Spock carefully held the cavity magnetron with both hands (the thing was _covered_ in warning stickers) and delegated the other items to Jim as the pair made their way carefully back to the barn.

They set down the parts next to the mangled communications array, which now looked less like a marvel of Vulkhansu engineering and more like the microwave they had left behind. There was an open chasm in the reddish metal, and from which spilled an endless number of mismatched wires and circuit boards and other high-tech parts Jim couldn’t recognise, even with half of Spock’s knowledge. And despite the situation he was in, Spock looked at home sitting amongst the mess.

Jim placed the high voltage transformer and the relay down, and sat behind Spock, chin on his shoulder. Spock tensed briefly, and then relaxed. Jim probably wouldn’t be allowed to do this on T’Kasi, but the Vulkhansu High Council could stick it bc Spock was comfortable. It was nice, watching Spock work. He still had the thick rubber gloves on to protect his hands but his fingers moved nimbly, twisting wires and carefully attaching the magnetron to the subspace amplifier.

“Can you set up the antenna?” Spock asked softly, and Jim nodded.

He grabbed a flat metal shape that had five sides and opened a panel in the dashboard, looking for a port. There was none, so Jim began peeling away at the thin screen with a pair of pliers to reveal the circuitry underneath. This was fine, circuitry he could do - there was one computer in his school that he’d secretly taken apart and put back together in breaks when he was bored (which was always. The fun part was trying to do it quicker than last time and not get caught afterwards). He compared what he knew pre- and post-Spock. There were some similarities. He could do this.

Jim began tracing which parts led where and estimating as best as he could, attached the two prongs at the end of the antenna to the dashboard. He went to rub at his eye, but immediately thought better of it - the bruising wouldn’t go down for a few days.

Spock was still fiddling with the magnetron, holding the device close to his face and squinting as the sun sunk over the horizon.

“Come on,” Jim said, “let’s finish up - it’ll all be here in the morning, and we need to get you hidden before Frank comes back.”

Spock looked up at him, and nodded. “First we should cover up the hole in the wall so that my ship remains undiscovered.”

Jim turned to the splintered wood and laughed. He forgot about that. “Probably - hey, I bet there’s a tarp somewhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight now for some fun facts about microwaves since I now know too much about them:  
> \- the cavity magnetron is the thing that generates the microwaves. They used to be used in fun things like pre-WWII plane radar  
> thingies  
> \- the high voltage transformer is the thing that generates power. Does something called electromagnetic induction that makes even  
> more power  
> \- a voltage relay is something that takes electricity from point A to point B. A 12 volt relay means it does this when the energy reaches  
> 12 volts. I think. 
> 
> Someone correct me if I'm wrong all I have is wikipedia and tutorials on How To Take Your Microwave Apart


	7. Half-formed and barely begun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year kiddos I'm adding slow burn to the tag list

“Do you have a quiet room?” Spock asked once he had finished his vegetarian take out (shamelessly paid for using Frank’s credit card). 

Jim froze, fork halfway to his mouth. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“I require meditation.”

Jim put down his food and smacked his forehead. “Oh, duh,” he paused, and then said: “but Spock, I don’t think it would be a good idea to be in separate rooms - if Frank comes back and we don’t hear him come in we’re screwed.”

Spock sighed. 

“I’m sorry, Spock,” Jim said, placing a hand on his knee briefly before jumping up onto the bed and pulling the covers over himself, “look, I’ll go to sleep. That’s basically the same thing, right? I’ll be quiet, promise.”

“I do not believe you could ever be quiet, even in sleep,” Spock said, and dragged the round carpet from the center of the room to the far corner, “which is why I will be over here.”

Jim pointedly wrinkled his nose at him and shouted  _ I would come up with a great reply to that but I’m being quiet!  _ as loud as he could in his mind in the hopes that Spock would hear it. 

Spock, now kneeling on the blue-and-green bullseye rug, quirked his lips before shifting his weight and schooling his features. Jim might have doubted it was even there in the first place had he not felt Spock’s amusement himself (which was so weird, by the way. Feeling someone else’s feelings. It was like dirt and coco powder - at a glance they were the same; it was only once you tasted them that you knew the difference. And alien feelings tasted like a colour Jim had never even seen, so it was a task only undertaken once fully awake.).

As Spock’s breathing slowed, Jim tried not to think loud thoughts. He burrowed down into his blanket and watched as Spock sat, tranquil as the night air, breathing in and out slowly.  _ A singularly unique being.  _ That was what Spock had called him after they had melded, after his mind had expanded beyond its reaches to encompass the alien sitting in the corner of his room. He didn’t feel all that  _ singularly unique  _ \- he wasn’t the genetically engineered hybrid from another planet with an entire universe inside his head. 

Jim could spend a life contented with dreaming about the way Spock thought, could spend nights eternal losing himself in what it felt like. And here he was, half in daydream, half in grounded awe of the stoic elf sitting on his bedroom floor. 

What had his life become.

Spock opened his eyes, which slightly startled him. At first he thought Spock was gonna be all  _ you’re thinking too much  _ or  _ I really must go into a different room because you’re annoying  _ (the Spock-voice in his mind was something like Jim’s stuffy school librarian) _ ,  _ but he didn’t say a word, and neither did Jim. They didn’t need to, really, because they weren’t trying to communicate; rather, the world had shrunk around Jim’s tiny room, the moonlight streaming in through the only window on Earth, and they were breathing it all in, together. 

Spock looked more serene and peaceful than Jim had ever seen him, even in Spock’s own memories (which Jim was forgetting more and more; they weren’t his memories and he  _ couldn’t remember  _ the taste of Plomeek soup, but although it frightened him in an abstract, distant way, it was alright because he still had Spock here to tell him about it if he forgot it all. He had the feeling that Spock could sit there and explain the workings of the kal’ta plant to a molecular level and Jim would still be enraptured). 

Then, Spock closed his eyes again, the rest of his face unchanging, and Jim mirrored him. It was late. He should sleep. 

He was thinking too loud; but no matter how hard he tried he could not stop feeling like he was mentally yelling something half-formed and only somewhat understood. 

It was late.

Jim scrunched his eyes firmly, resolving to not open them again, and purposefully slowed down his breathing. He forced his mind away from reality, and started imagining silly situations in order to let Spock meditate; he leisurely drifted through T’Kasi’s triple-star system, making up increasingly fantastical things to fill the gaps in his knowledge.

He didn’t know when he fell asleep, but he was jostled awake as Spock, now finished his meditation, peeled back the covers and slipped in. Maybe if he could have taken a moment to think about the situation Jim might have found it strange, however sleep was one hell of a drug so all he thought on the matter was something akin to:  _ oh, Spock’s here.  _ He also couldn’t seem to remember if Vulkhansu were a cuddly species or not (man, Spock was an  _ alien)  _ and so he promptly made the decision that they were, and threw an arm over Spock.

He was surprised at his own actions (was he surprised? Or was it Spock? Who knew) but then they both settled down into the warmth of the bed. They were facing each other, Spock’s hand had curled around the front of jim’s shirt and Jim blinked once, twice at the sight before drifting off once again.

 

* * *

 

Jim woke up  _ sore.  _ He expected to, but that didn’t make it suck any less. 

He groaned and rolled over. Suddenly, Spock’s eyes were millimeters away from his face, blinking at him. Jim let out a yell in surprise and jerked backwards. 

“Jesus Spock, you scared the shit outta me!” he exclaimed, looking up at the ceiling.

“I apologise,” Spock said, “you must attend school today.”

“Nice pillow talk Spock, we really should do this again sometime.”

Spock briefly flushed green. “I am not talking to the pillow”

Jim rolled over to look him in the eye. “You can pretend you don’t have all sorts of dumbass human slang in your eidetic head but it won’t work.”

“You must attend school. It will not do to neglect your studies, as after I am gone you will need to return to exactly what you were doing before,” Spock said, “as if it all never happened.” 

Jim turned to look at the ceiling again. “Never happened. Right.” 

“I must also teach you to shield before you go. I have no wish to endure  _ high school  _ through you.”

Jim huffed out a laugh and put a hand on his forehead. “You’ve got a whole to-do list, don’t you? How long have you been up, anyway?”

“Vulkhansu require less sleep than humans.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Four point eight three hours.”

_ “Hours?” _ Jim echoed, “why didn’t you... I don’t know.. Go and do something? Or wake me up?”

Spock also turned to look up at the ceiling. “Your arm was over me, and I did not move it in case you woke up.”

Jim glanced over at Spock. His hair wasn’t as messed up as he’d hoped, and the tips of his ears were green. They’d managed to tangle the sheets at their calves throughout the summer night and their hands were dangerously close together. 

“You could have woken me up,” Jim mumbled. 

“Humans need more sleep than Vulkhansu,” Spock said, and then continued as Jim’s mouth opened to rebut, “I did not mind. I was able to meditate lightly until you awoke.” 

“Well that’s something, at least,” Jim yawned and stretched before sitting up, “now what’s first on your itinerary?”

Spock looked pleased. “First you must attend school and I will work on the relay, and also we will soon have to deal with Frank.”

Jim yawned. “Nice plan in theory, but you need me here and school won’t teach me anything I can’t learn here.”

“I am able to function without-”

“Point number one-” Jim held up a finger in front of Spock’s face- “you don’t know what food tastes like. You  _ think  _ you do because you know what I know, but I know that we have very different taste buds and I don’t know if Snack Mates are vegetarian or not. You could end up with a bad taste in your mouth at best, food poisoning at worst.”

“I hardly think-”

“Number two!” Jim held up a second finger and Spock gave him an  _ are you serious  _ look. “You’re fucked if Frank comes home - or if he’s already here - and sees you. I can only convince him there are no little green men around if he doesn’t  _ see _ any little green men.”

“I am not a little green man, Jim.”

“And number three!” he held up a third finger, “it’s like, ten am. School’s already started so there’s no point.” 

Spock closed his eyes for a second, which was like, the human equivalent of chucking a fit, and acquiesced. 

Back in the barn, Jim was still fiddling with the antenna, inching it in the direction Spock told him with his left hand (his right hurt like a bitch) while he stuck a screwdriver in the subspace amplifier. It buzzed when Jim pointed the antenna slightly to the left of where he had it before, and Spock practically lit up. 

Spock connected the transformer to the subspace relay, and then stopped. “The high voltage transformer should boost the power for the relay, but now there’s the issue of whether or not the magnetron will be enough for the relay to receive the transmission in subspace before it emerges into normal space,” he said. 

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Jim replied. 

The whole thing looked like a mess. What was once an alien interface had become an exposed circuit board with an antenna sticking out of it, and the wall beneath it had opened up and brought forth a heaping of alien wires, crudely twisted together and joined to the guts of an Earth microwave. 

But it just might work. 

“Send a really short message,” Jim suggested, “just like, your space coordinates or something.”

Spock plugged in his padd (which still blew Jim’s mind. It was a supercomputer, the size of a piece of paper) and drew a single line of swirls before placing it down again. He double checked the work they had done while Jim sat patiently (anxiously) off to the side. 

So. Wow. This could be it. He’d forgotten how quick Vulkhansu ships were but they had to be pretty fucking fast. They were  _ spaceships.  _ So. Once Spock sends that message, he could be gone. 

Just like that. 

Even though he hadn’t been here long, something in Jim threw a violent protest to the idea of Spock going somewhere he couldn’t reach. 

Spock froze where he was fiddling with a red wire, as if sensing his line of thought. He turned to Jim. 

“I am… grateful for your help, Jim. And your,” Spock looked away, an aborted sentence changed to something else, “materials.” 

Jim smiled, although it got stuck in his throat somewhere along the way. He would have liked to know Spock more, he thought. _Really_ know him, not just information without experience. This felt like a grand journey that was resolved before it even started. His hand throbbed. 

“You’re welcome, Spock,” he said. 

Spock sent the message. The antenna whirred to life, the screen of the padd blinked, there was a sound like the whole ship took a breath in-

And then it spluttered, coughed, and died. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I know how a subspace anything works? no
> 
>  
> 
> Also, is padd meant to be capitalised? Like, Padd or PADD? 
> 
> Double also, I'm aware padds are fedaration tech, but I'm just assuming Vulcans have ipads too. The fact that they're called the same is completely coincidental.


	8. The space between stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Updating? It's more likely than you think

Jim clicked a button on and off. Nothing. Only Spock’s padd was working, blinking a harsh red in his hands. 

“It shut down,” said Spock, “there wasn’t enough power so it terminated the message and shut off everything that wasn’t necessary. We will not get a signal through like this.”

He felt Spock’s disappointment, his anger, and his worry; a sharp, fleeting pain right in his heart just before it was mercilessly quashed, so fast Jim almost got whiplash. So fast, it took him a moment to realise that he couldn’t feel… anything from Spock.

“Spock…?” Jim ventured, reaching out a hand but unsure of its purpose.

Spock stood, still holding the padd in his hands. “It is no matter. This can be fixed. You will have your midday meal as you neglected to break your fast this morning, and I shall continue the work.”

“What about you? You didn’t have breakfast either.”

A moment passed, and Spock turned to examine something on the dashboard. “Vulkhansu require less sustenance than humans. I shall continue working.”

Jim paused, confused and slightly hurt. Spock told him before that humans were  _ psi-null  _ (a weird phrase; did that mean Spock was “ _ psi?”  _ That sounded even weirder), which was apparently supposed to mean that Jim wouldn’t be able to feel their bond, but despite that Jim certainly felt a…  _ lack,  _ of something.

But maybe Spock had forgotten that Jim had been inside his  _ head. _

“Nope,” he said. Spock turned around to face him, an eyebrow raised.

Jim raised his own to match. “You’re not gonna continue working,  _ I’m  _ going inside to grab us food, and  _ we’re _ going to eat and not think about this mess, and then  _ we’re _ going to continue working, ok?”

A small dent appeared in Spock’s forehead. “Jim-”

“Nope!” Jim said again, and moved so he was right in front of Spock’s face. “We’re taking. A break. Say it.”

“Jim I really think-”

“Say it!”

Spock sighed, infinitesimally small, and then repeated, deadpan: “we are taking a break.”

Jim grinned and slapped him on the shoulder on his way out. The grin disappeared as soon as he left the barn because even though he touched Spock, he couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t his own. He didn’t like it.

 

* * *

 

  
  
They ate in silence. Jim looked up every now and again in an attempt to catch Spock’s eye, but to no avail. Spock stared resolutely at his plate and lifted his fork from salad to mouth robotically, either so lost in thought or so lost in disappointment that he didn’t want to be disturbed. 

“Screw this,” Jim said, finally making Spock look at him, “what did you do?”

Spock’s eyebrows creased slightly, briefly. “I just ruined the last option of contacting my family, but I fail to see why you would ask such a question, as you already know this.”

“No, I - it was not your  _ last option  _ we can definitely - I mean with  _ this.”  _ Jim gestured, wildly, to his head. “Where did you  _ go?” _

The look that flitted across Spock’s face lingered long enough for Jim to identify it as surprise. “I closed off the initial bond that had formed between us. As humans are psi-null, I did not think you would notice.”

“Why would you do that?”

A pause. “Bonding is a very long, sacred process. For it to happen, here, in such a way is… not proper.” Another pause; Spock’s eyes flitting between Jim and his plate. “To my knowledge, only three Vulkhansu have bonded with outsiders, and even then it was… frowned upon.”

“But they’re…” Jim began, not really knowing where the sentence was going.

Spock looked at him, into him, through him. “My presence on Earth is only temporary. It cannot have any permanent… effects if I am to continue as I have on T’Kasi.”

At that moment, a part of Jim was glad that Spock had broken the bond, so that he would not know how much knowing that hurt. It was a logical way to look at their relationship, really. Jim was a means to an end.

The thought gnawed at him from the inside out, dissolved in his stomach and made him sick. “Wow, divorced already,” he chuckled humourlessly, “what would my mother say?”

“Jim,” Spock started, also seemingly without knowing where the sentence would end up (for once), but was cut off by the sound of the universe spitting in Jim’s face and laughing at him: a key turning in the front door lock.

Both boys looked at each other in alarm, before bursting into motion a split second later. Jim shoved Spock towards the back door and scraped all of Spock’s uneaten food onto his plate, placing the dirty one in the sink. Spock allowed himself to be shoved towards the back door, but paused for a moment, looking back at Jim with (dare he say it) an  _ emotion  _ on his face before collecting himself and hurrying outside.

Footsteps, low and heavy.

Jim could hear little but his own heartbeat.

“Jimmy?” Frank said when he caught sight of him, more surprised than pissed (for once), “t’fuck are you doing here?”

“Uh… school got out early?” Jim tried.

Frank sighed like it was his last, exasperated breath leaving him (oh, Jim wished).

“Now, what would Winona say if she knew you weren’t going to school? Were you even thinking of how I’d have to tell her?” he took a step forward, and Jim gripped the kitchen counter tighter, “No, of course not. See, that’s your problem, Jim, you never think of anyone but yourself.”

“Unlike  _ some _ people, I suppose?” Jim said through his teeth.

His mother’s husband frowned, eye twitching. “Everything your mother and I have done has been for you, y’know. She’s out there working those long hours and what do you do? Just fucking  _ throw  _ it all away because, what was it? School is  _ ‘boring.’” _

Frank moved into the kitchen and grabbed a fistfull of Jim’s hair. Jim just gripped the counter tighter.

“You’re going to school tomorrow, shithead. You’ll get outta my fucking house, sit in that classroom, and you’ll realise that, aside from being a  _ spectacular  _ pain in my ass, you’re just like every other kid in this town.”

He let go, and Jim’s knees gave out for a second before he caught himself.

Yeah, he thought, Frank was much worse when he was sober.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eh pretty short chapter? sorry? Will update soon?
> 
> pls let me know what you thought!


End file.
